


Sick (HankCon)

by CrimsonFandomTrash



Series: Detroit: Become Human Stuff - HankCon & Reed900 Hell [8]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Swears, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Fluff, Gen, Hank Anderson Swears, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Poor Connor, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Sickfic, Thirium (Detroit: Become Human), connor is sick of cyberlife's bs, not beta read we die like men, so is Hank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 04:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15878421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonFandomTrash/pseuds/CrimsonFandomTrash
Summary: In which Connor gets sick, due to a CyberLife 'quality of life' update. Thanks, CyberLife.





	Sick (HankCon)

  At a certain point, CyberLife had started taking requests for more 'quality of life' updates that they could work on. It had only been a little over three months since the revolution had been won, and CyberLife started coming out with these updates to increase the androids' authenticity and quality of life, making them more human-like than they had been before. 

   Connor, being an advanced model, got notified every time there was a new update, although without his LED anymore, Hank could never tell, so Connor would tell him. "There seems to be a new update." He would say. He'd list off a couple of the things the update would add. After the hunger and the fatigue update, there came a pain update not long after, which was pretty self-explanatory. Hank had told him he shouldn't get it, but Connor wanted it. He wanted to feel human, he realized, even if there were certain things he'd never be able to do, like aging, among other things. 

   Now, at least he could stub his toe on a piece of furniture equally, which, coincidentally, is the first experience he has with pain. Hank laughed at him when it happened. "Told ya not to get the update. Welcome to the human condition, buddy. Let's just hope you never step on a lego."

   There were other updates, too. Now that they weren't making and selling more androids, CyberLife was pouring their money into making updates. One highly requested update was the ability to blush, for some reason. He doesn't know why a lot of androids would want that, since blushing is usually synonymous with embarrassment, and Connor already knows that embarrassment is the most awkward and uncomfortable emotion there is. But, he got the update, anyway, and it really seemed to cheer Hank up when it happened the first time as he excitedly pointed out that Connor was blushing. Connor had stubbed his toe again. He most certainly was blushing. His toe was also dully throbbing. 

   Though a lot of the updates added negative things, Hank had explained that a lot of life was negative. There were nice moments, sure, but they were fleeting in the grand scheme of things, which is why most people turned to drugs and alcohol, searching for happiness, or at least an escape. Connor figured he could understand the flawed logic behind that. Alcohol and narcotics were supposed to either elevate your state of mind or make you forget. Humans seemed to have a lot they didn't want to remember. 

   An update came out at the beginning of February, and it was the biggest quality of life update CyberLife had released yet. Connor didn't read all the notes. All he knew was the update included the ability to get intoxicated, to which Hank said: "Well, at least you can be my drinking buddy, now." To which Connor had been Hank's drinking buddy for a night. To which he got really fucked up. It seemed he was, as humans would say, a lightweight. When he woke up the next morning with a splitting headache, Hank laughed at him. A hangover. The guys at CyberLife really did think of everything.

   He hadn't even had the update for a week when he regretted installing it. A hangover seemed mild compared to what he was experiencing now. He should have seen the signs earlier, in hindsight. The way his limbs ached when he moved the first few days before, the way his sense of smell had diminished greatly. To put it lightly, by the time he realizes, he feels like he's dying inside. When Hank realizes he's the first to wake up, on a workday, no less, and it's already noon, he knows something is wrong. He knocks on Connor's door, and Connor wakes up to the sound immediately, feeling it echo and bounce around his skull. 

   "Con?" He doesn't answer. Maybe, if he doesn't move, Hank won't be able to see him. Like a T-Rex. Though that doesn't seem to help, given that the human opens his bedroom door, and peaks his head in. Connor brings the covers up over himself to block out the sudden blinding light filtering in through his door. "Connor, are you okay?" He gives Hank a groan in reply, not really sure how else to answer that question. "We're late for work," Hank says, not at all sounding like he minds. 

   Connor rolls over in bed to face away from him, and Hank catches wind that there's most definitely something wrong with his android. Connor feels Hank sit on the mattress beside him, and feels the back of the older man's hand against his forehead. "Jesus, Connor, you're burning up."

   "I am...?" Truth be told, Connor felt cold. His voice comes out hoarse when he asks Hank the question. 

   "I think one of those 'quality of life' updates mighta fucked you over. Run a diagnostic real quick."

   Connor did so, to which he found out his systems were overheating, his optical units weren't functioning to their highest extent, his mind palace was corrupted, and his artificial lungs weren't operating at their highest extent, either. "Several of... Of my systems aren't functioning at their highest capacity... And my temperature regulator is overheating." He'd lost his train of thought a couple times during his sentence. 

   "Alright, I'm calling us off work today."

   "That's not necessary--"

   "Don't fight me on this, Connor. You're sick. And besides, we haven't had any real time off since the city was evacuated. We deserve a day off."

   Connor didn't feel like fighting. "Hank..."

   "Hm?"

   "I feel like shit."

   Hank laughed a little. It was very rare that Connor used foul language. "All the more reason for us to stay home. I'll call Captain Fowler. I'll be back in a few minutes to take care of ya."

   Hank left the room, and Connor sank back into his bed. His head was throbbing, probably the reason behind his corrupted mind palace. When he looked around the room, his vision would blur every couple of seconds, and the sunlight streaming in through the windows burned the android equivalent of his retinas. To top it all off, his artificial lungs felt like they were being filled with hot, heavy air every time he breathed in, and despite the fact that he couldn't suffocate, the idea of not breathing seemed uncomfortable after so many months of doing so. 

   He spent a few uncomfortable minutes just laying there. After he realized that Hank had been gone for three minutes and thirty-two seconds, he grew restless. He reached for the object on his bedside table, right where he left it almost every night, feeling the plastic brush up against his synthetic skin. His fidget spinner. 

   After watching the light blue plastic toy spin for exactly two minutes and forty-seven seconds, Connor grew bored of that, too, and wondered what Hank was doing. He sighed. He shouldn't have gotten this update. Sure, he could uninstall it, but to be human was to get ill sometimes. The human body was a fragile machine, he remembers Markus saying once. To be human was to be flawed, to not always be at your best, unlike androids. He'd gotten these software updates in an attempt to feel more human, and he felt it would be cheap to uninstall it now just because of a little cold. Humans didn't want to get sick, either, and it isn't like they had a choice. So, Connor would just have to deal with it. It wasn't like it was the end of the world, even if his entire body felt like there were spikes of ice shooting through him one moment, and the next he felt like he was bathing in lava. 

   He spent the next few minutes questioning how the people at CyberLife had even coded this, how they'd chosen what components of an android body to tackle when it got sick, how the android body even got sick in the first place. None of it really made any sense, but then, androids had the ability to cry, and the people at CyberLife had never coded that. They also had the ability to blush now, and Connor had no idea how that had been coded, either. He decided androids were just weird, himself included. 

   After what felt like an eternity (but was really ten minutes and fifteen seconds), Hank finally returned back, and he brought a couple of things with him. Connor wanted to scan what they were, but his mind palace was too corrupted to analyze anything. "Here, stick this in your mouth," Hank said. Connor squinted at the object. "Under your tongue. Keep it there for a minute until it beeps."

   Connor did as he was told, and slipped the small, slender object under his tongue, staring at the numbers on the small screen. The numbers were going up. It started at sixty, and kept rising, until it finally stopped at one hundred fifteen, and then beeped. Hank pulled the object out and looked at it. "Jesus, you've got a temperature of a hundred fifteen. If you were human, you'd already be dead."

   Connor did a quick internet search and found that when a human had a fever of one hundred three degrees, it was more than time to get them to a hospital. In most cases, one hundred five degrees was lethal. It made him feel slightly uncomfortable that he was well over the lethal limit, but then, he was an android, not a human. 

   As something cold came in contact with his forehead, Connor felt instant relief. The temperature he felt like was constantly shifting. When Hank had first come in, he felt like he was freezing (which kind of reminded him of the last time he'd been in the Zen Garden, snow falling so heavy that he could barely see in front of him, could barely even walk to the emergency exit). When Hank had left, he felt cold one second, and then hot the next. Now that Hank was back, the heat just seemed to stay, and he knew if he were human, he'd be slick with sweat. The ice pack the older man put on his forehead doesn't make the sensation go away entirely, but it definitely helps, even if only as a distraction. "How're you feelin', Con?"

   "Horrible," Connor answers truthfully. He feels a hand ruffle his hair. 

   "Try goin' into stasis mode for a couple hours. Usually, when humans get sick, we need to sleep a lot. It helps speed up the healing process. I don't really know what would help an android cold, but if the guys at CyberLife thought of making it so you guys could get sick in the first place, they must have thought of ways for you to get better."

   Connor honestly didn't catch most of that, but he heard enough to understand vaguely what Hank was saying. He nodded and started to power off. "I'll come to check on ya every now and then. You just rest." He heard vaguely, with a couple seconds left on the timer until he shut down. "Goodnight, Connor. Get well."

   "Night, Hank..." He managed. His eyes closed, and he slipped into oblivion.   
\----------------------------------  
  
   As it turned out, a quick internet search revealed that a lot of androids were getting sick because of the newest and biggest update. Some of them were angry, some were just miserable, as was a typical response to being ill (they were complaining about feeling like they were dying, which Hank decided was the most human thing about them so far), some were strangely happy, which Hank didn't quite understand. But then, a lot of these people had been told things like, 'you're just a piece of plastic', so the ability to get sick probably made them feel a bit more human, which was the goal of these updates in the first place. 

   So far, the only solutions anyone had so far was going into stasis mode for a long period of time, and drinking lots of thirium, which Hank now knew was the technological word for what humans more commonly called 'blue blood'. So, they were just drinking their own blood like it was cough syrup? Weird. He supposed the fact that it wasn't actual blood would make it easier to watch on his part when he got some for Connor. Which prompted another internet search, 'where can i get thirium'.

   The answer was an android repair center, which there was only one in Detroit, and when Hank and Connor had heard about it, Hank had called it an android hospital. That seemed to be sticking more, now that he knew he was gonna have to go pick up a few bags of android blood for his buddy. He decided he should do it now before Connor woke up. Although, he did scratch out a quick note on a sticky note before leaving the house, should Connor wake up while he was gone. 

   When Connor woke up, he either felt better because the sleep helped, or he felt better because Hank said sleep would help, and it was psychosomatic. Either way, he felt slightly better. He still felt like a pile of dog poo that's been stepped in a couple times, but it could be worse. 

   The ice pack on his forehead has melted by now, and his internal clock reads four PM, meaning he'd been out for a little over three hours. The house is quiet, and he doesn't hear the TV, which is odd, so he sat up in bed, noting the dull ache all over his body before standing shakily. When he emerged from his dark room into the dimly lit rest of the house, his eyes burn, and he has to blink away tears that welled up in them from the sting of the light. He looks around the house. No Hank, the only life sign he's detecting nearby is Sumo. He walks into the kitchen when he notices a bright pink sticky note on the table. He instantly recognizes Hank's handwriting. 

_Hey, Con. If you wake up and read this, just wanted to let'cha know, I'm on my way to that android hospital in town. Apparently, blue blood is the equivalent of cough syrup or something. A buncha androids online said that blue blood and rest helps with android colds. I'll be back soon with your life force/medicine bullshit soon. Take it easy._

   He hadn't even signed the note, probably figuring Connor would know it's from him. It wasn't like anyone else lived here with them, and Sumo definitely didn't write it (although, imagining such is an amusing thought, Connor muses). He sat the sticky note back down on the table. 

   His artificial stomach reminds him that he hasn't eaten in approximately eighteen hours, but Connor can't really work up an equally artificial appetite with his body feeling like this. He doesn't need the calories, anyway. His internal systems have enough to power him autonomously for one hundred seventy-three years without a power source, and there are still android charging stations all over. Not that he'd even need them, because even though he's perfectly happy to be alive and all that, he kind of agrees with Hank on one thing in particular about life: I'm here for a good time, not a long time. He doesn't think he even wants to operate for one hundred seventy-three years, doesn't know what he'd do with all that time. More than likely, once he finds that he's experienced as much life as he thinks he could, he'll probably power himself off for good. 

   He doesn't want to think about that kind of stuff right now though, so he goes back to his room, grabs his blanket, and then meanders back to the couch, turning the TV on, and wrapping himself up in the blanket. He doesn't feel like going back to sleep. 

   After forty-three minutes and five seconds, he hears the door open and looks over to see Hank, who immediately spots Connor, too. Sumo goes up to greet their human. "Hey, you're up." Connor nods. He notices the paper bag in Hank's hand and tilts his head to the side. "It's thirium." The human explains. "Apparently drinking this stuff makes you guys better."

   "CyberLife androids are designed to replace lost thirium by consuming it, so it does not surprise me that they thought to make it the equivalent of an over the counter medicine, like cough syrup for humans."

   "Wow, even sick, you sound like a walking thesaurus."

   Hank doesn't waste much time in going to the kitchen, where Connor's brown eyes follow his movements. He cuts open the tip of one of the bags of blue blood, grabs a cup from the cupboard, and pours the thirium in before walking back into the living room, and handing it to Connor. "Here."

   Connor drinks most of it in one go, considering he doesn't have to stop in between for breath like a human does, which Hank adds to his list of things Connor does that creeps him out that he keeps to himself. Once Connor senses Hank's unease, he at least pretends to need to stop in between. "Thank you." 

   "No problem," Hank said. He puts the back of his hand on Connor's forehead, to which Connor's cheeks turn blue. "Your fever's going down. Seems like androids get better faster than humans."

   "Good, this sucks, and I hate it." 

   Hank chuckles and plops on the couch next to him. "Run a diagnostic."

   Connor does so. "My system's functions are working a bit better, and my mind palace is no longer corrupted, meaning I can analyze things again. And my head isn't pounding anymore. I estimate that everything should be back in complete working order in fourteen hours, twelve minutes, and thirty-four seconds."

   "That's good. Maybe if you drink more of your android Kool-Aid, you'll get better even faster. Unless it's like medicine, and you can overdose."

   "We can consume up to three liters of thirium before having to flush our systems of it."

   "I don't even wanna know how that happens or what that means. 'S long as you know what you need, that's good enough."

   Connor smiled. He still felt like shit, kinda, but he was very grateful that Hank was watching over him. He'd have to return the favor at some point, knowing that Hank would get sick eventually. He just hoped Hank stayed in good health as often as he could. Lord knows he didn't wish this or anything worse upon his human.


End file.
